Inel
by Allergic-to-Paradox
Summary: An interstellar take on Sleeping Beauty. To prevent war, a marriage was arranged. But when Princess Inima died, Prince Amante slept in stasis until his foretold bride was born. Generations later, his post-war Princess is here to wake him. Oneshot


Inel

It was snowing. Fat, white flakes blew down like feathers, brushing against her goggles and coat. This was the last stage of the journey, and she traveled it alone.

The entrance to the building was deceptively small; a tiny shack one could scarcely lie down in. The ruins of the Citadel hulked under the snow around her, half walls and broken doorways just visible through ice and snow. Inel waded through it, high boots and weatherproof suit keeping her dry (enough). She pawed away the snow in front of the door, and chipped ice from the readout cover with her axe. She pulled her hood away from her mouth and tugged off a mitten with her teeth. The prick of the blood test was quick, and didn't hurt as much as she'd thought.

"Welcome, child of Mireazha," said the computer in a soft, feminine voice. The door opened, and Inel tumbled in, along with half a drift of snow. The door slid shut behind her with a soft shh-ing sound, and she was alone.

A dim entryway light flickered on, shakily, so she pulled out her flashlight. The access panel was here, just to the side of the door, as she'd been taught. The readouts looked promising, but when she hit the control for the lights, nothing happened. The main box, then. She pulled her hood back and lifted her goggles, shedding snow onto the floor. It was chill here, but not so cold as it was outside. Mittens off and stuck in a pocket, she headed down into the bunker. Latticed metal flooring clanked slightly under her feet, and the wooden plank walls looked out of place supported by the shaped steel beams and posts. _Even when they built this place, it was an antique_, she mused. She dusted the remainder of the snow off of her as she walked down the stairs and into the main portion of the building.

The door at the foot of the stairs did not open at her approach, but a boost from her transmitter and the all-access code given to her by her father worked instantly. _Good. Let's hope the rest is as easy. _ Now a storey and a half underground, she made her way back through the bunker to the main control panel. She peered about her as she went, flicking her light back and forth. No damage sustained, just a little dusty, a little old. A hundred and ten years, and all the place needed was a bit of a cleaning and some heat. The air wasn't even stale, so some of the systems must be working still.

Finally in the control room, Inel examined the panels. It didn't take much mucking about, the builders had made the system very straightforward. Some of the connections were out of place, perhaps knocked out by whatever final blast had taken out the last of the Citadel above them. She plugged her transmitter in for good measure, and the lights came on. _Aha! That should do it! _She heard the heating system kick on, and she huffed out a white breath of satisfaction. Soon everything would be up and running.

Now to check the Prince. The doors opened at her approach, and lights blossomed in each room as she walked. There, in the center of the tiny complex, was his room. Prince Amante, last surviving member of the Heilin royal family, set in a stasis field here before the stellar war had even begun. He had been betrothed to Inima, Princess of Mireazha, but she died before the wedding could take place. Since a child of Amante and a daughter of Mireazha was foretold to secure the safety of both worlds, and a war was looming on the horizon, it was agreed that Amante would sleep in peace until a daughter was born to the royal family again.

No one counted on it taking quite so long, of course, but she was here now; long past the war her great-grandfather had fought in.

She needed all five of the access codes to enter the Prince's chamber, and another dna test, but the doors finally opened.

There he was, looking but asleep under the blinking green readouts zipping across the transparent stasis cover. She double- and triple-checked everything. It looked like the backup power systems had kicked in when the main power was knocked loose, and he'd never felt a thing. He was fine, and should wake without trouble once she began. She leaned on the pod and gazed down at him. He was very handsome, only a little older than the recordings he had left.

_To my future bride,_ he said in the first. _I can't wait to meet you. Know that I shall dream of you, however long it takes. Our marriage will bring great heart to our people, and perhaps save us from the war that is threatening even as I speak._

_I only hope you don't mind marrying an older man, _he laughed in another, a little self-consciously at the half-joke. He rubbed the bridge of his nose when he got nervous. She thought it was adorable. Each recording got a little more personal than the last, as he got used to talking to a woman who wasn't even born yet. They'd been given to Inel, unopened, on her seventeenth birthday; passed down through the family so she could meet her betrothed. She'd grown quite fond of him.

While the bunker's systems were running scan checks and beginning to circulate warm, fresh air through the building, Inel cleaned up here and there. She'd been trained in stasis recovery wards, and had been put under for a month herself, to better understand the side effects. It'd be nice to have a bed ready made, and food and drink fresh and hot once he was ready to eat. There was only one bedroom, but she noted the two beds with amusement. They weren't married yet, after all. So she made both.

In the short time it took to prepare, the systems were at full function, and she shed her parka and goggles onto the bed, finally ready to wake him. And, though she would admit it to no one, she stopped first for a quick primp in the tiny washroom mirror. She was about to meet her fiancé for the first time; just because her hair had been under a parka for two days didn't mean it had to _look_ that way.

She made a quick call to her team on the surface, camped outside the Citadel.

"Captain, I'm about to wake Amante."

"Roger that. You alright down there, milady?"

She snorted. "Everything's running just fine. The readings look good, but have the medical team on standby. I'll contact you tonight if all's well."

"Yes'm. Good luck, Inel. Our thoughts are with you."

She smiled. Captain Rigel had always been her favorite of the royal guard. "Thinking of me meaning you wish I was somewhere else so you weren't all freezing your asses off in the snow up there?"

He laughed, and it crackled over the channel. "Yes ma'am!"

"Heh. Stay warm, Rigel, and I'll see you tomorrow. Over and out."

At last, at last, at last. She was here, this was it. This was what the planet had been waiting for since before she was born. No pressure or anything. He looked like he was sleeping, under the scrolling stats and symbols. He'd been there for over a hundred years, and he didn't even have five o'clock shadow. Ahh, the marvels of technology.

She began the wakening process, one eye on the monitors as he slowly moved from a comatose state into a more regular sleep. He stirred a little, and she wondered idly if he snored. Once the progression was complete, she lifted the cover of the pod. He looked like he'd been worried a lot. There were tiny furrows in his brow, and lines at the corners of his eyes that he was too young for. The best way was to wake a stasis patient slowly, let them come out of it on their own if possible. But, if pressed, Inel would admit to being a romantic at heart; she couldn't resist just one kiss.

Their lips touched for an instant, gently. He took a deep breath, almost a gasp, and she straightened. His eyes opened as though there were weights attached—how well she remembered _that_ feeling—and slowly focused on her.

She couldn't help the smile that rose to her face. "Good morning," she said softly.

He blinked, and smiled, just a little. "My lady," he said huskily. "Is it you?"

"Yes. My name is Inel." After a hesitation, she touched his hand lightly. "It's so good to finally meet you."

He gave her a real smile this time. "You're lovely—ah, _it's_ lovely to…" he frowned, trying to get his thoughts in order. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'm a little…" he cleared his throat.

"Confusion is normal," she reassured him. "Don't worry; your head will clear in a few minutes."

Hesitantly, he reached up and brushed her cheek lightly with his fingertips. He traced her face tenderly, until he reached the three stars tattooed on her brow. "Child of Mireazha," he murmured. Then, recalling at last the formal words; "Daughter of Mireazha, I have waited long for this day."

"Son of Heilin, my life I have waited for you. Do you take my hand in the name of our countries united?"

"I do, now and forever as one." He reached down and clasped her hand.

Moved, she brought it up and kissed it.

"It is good to finally meet you, my Lady Inel."

She beamed. "How are you feeling?"

He blinked slowly and seemed to be taking stock. "I feel…tired. A little drained. But my head seems to be clearing."

"That's good. The transition shouldn't be too rough; we'll just take it slow."

He looked around the room. "You came alone?"

"I have a team camped outside, but I thought it would be best if I woke you myself." She smiled girlishly. "I admit, I wanted to be the first to see you."

He smiled back. "I am glad. Thank you."

"Well, that, and the nausea." She added with half a shrug. "that's not a lot of fun, so…"

"The nausea?"

Her smile quirked. "Tell me, my Lord, how does your stomach feel?"

"…Fine?"

"That's a good sign. But we'll just wait til you stand up, shall we?"

"You are not very reassuring, my Lady," he said, with just a touch of dryness.

She chuckled.

"I hope you will not find me terribly old fashioned," he said with a slow smile.

"I hope you don't find me too modern," she returned with a wink, checking his pulse.

He grinned. "I admit, my Lady, I am glad to see you have a sense of humor."

"I was always glad to see you had one as well."

He raised his eyebrows.

"The recordings you left—I greatly appreciated them. And, I have one of your journals," she added sheepishly. She'd never been sure if he would've approved of that.

"Mmph," he winced. "I have become an artifact. And what have your studies revealed?"

"I think we will get along." She squeezed his hand. "I _am_ glad to finally meet you. Do you think you're ready to sit up?"

"Ah. Yes, I would like that. If you do not mind assisting me?"

She leaned in and slid her arms around him, pulling him up. He sat easily, one arm tentatively around her neck. She steadied him, and for a moment their faces were close enough to kiss. Their eyes met, and electricity passed between them. And then the vertigo hit.

Once the room had stopped spinning, he released his grip on her arms and leaned a little against the open pod top. "Thank you."

"Any time."

"You said this becomes easier?"

"Yes. I was in stasis for a month, as part of my training. The first hour or so is the hardest, and by tomorrow you'll be back to normal."

"Thank you. That is _far_ more reassuring."

She laughed.

He studied her face. "I can see the Mireazha family in you. I had thought, perhaps, you would look like Inima, or her mother, but…no. Then again, I suppose not all the women in the family will look the same." He smiled slightly, preoccupied. "You look like…you must be one of her brothers' get?"

"Yes." He seemed keen to guess on his own, so she gave no clues.

"You look like…" he examined her face closely. "You have Drinian's eyes, I think."

Her face lit with pleasure. "Yes! Very well done. Drinian was my great-grandfather."

He looked staggered. "_Great-grandfather_?"

"Yes."

He looked down. "I recall him as a lad, as though it were yesterday. He was a fine boy."

"He was a fine man. I loved him very much, and he always spoke highly of you."

He smiled a little. "Did he? We always did get on well. When…did he die?"

"Six years ago. The summer I was seventeen—he was the one who gave me the recordings you left. He told me a lot about when he was young, when Aunt Inima died, and when you were brought here. He went peacefully." She looked away. It was still painful to think about.

He reached out and clasped her hand warmly. "I am glad, and I am glad you knew him."

"I am glad to know _you_. It feels right, somehow."

He nodded.

For a long time they sat, just looking at each other. Then Inel sighed and slid off the table. "Well, we should really get you on your feet."

"Yes," he said warily. "Best to get this nausea you speak of over and done with, correct?"

"Indeed. You ready?" she held out her arms to him. "Put your arm over my shoulder, and slide your legs over the edge."

He did so, and sat looking down at the floor nervously. "It seems such a long way down," he laughed.

"I won't let you fall. I promise." She grinned reassuringly.

He slid off the table and landed with a thump, nearly toppling over.

"There," she said breathlessly, steadying him in her arms. "That wasn't so bad?"

"No," he started, and then retched.

She stifled a chuckle and eased him down to his knees, pulling out the basin for him. "Easy does it."

When he was done, they sat back against the stasis pod, Amante's head on her shoulder. She stroked his hair back gently. "Think that's it?"

He nodded, slowly.

"Ready to get up again?"

He shook his head, slowly.

"Alright. Let me know. You'll feel worlds better when we get some water into you."

"That was wretched," he said at last.

"Yup."

"Will it happen again?"

"I don't think so. Usually it's just the one spell, and after that a little vertigo."

"Mmph."

She hid her smile in his hair.

"My Lady-"

"Inel."

"Inel. Are they waiting for us, outside?"

"My team? No. There's a room here for the night, and we'll join them tomorrow when you're feeling more yourself."

"Ah," he sighed, relieved. "Excellent."

Eventually they moved from the stasis chamber to the tiny living area. Inel brewed mint tea and set it before him. "Here, this'll help your stomach settle."

"Thank you." They sipped in silence for a while. "How old are you, Inel? If you do not mind my asking."

"Twenty-three. And I don't mind at all—we're going to be married, after all."

"Twenty-three," he mused. "I hope you do not mind that I am older?"

"Seven years?" she waved it away. "Not a big deal."

"One hundred seventeen, I suppose. But if seven does not trouble you, let it be seven." His eyes sparkled.

"Wasn't Aunt Inima sixteen when you were engaged?"

"Yes. The timing was not ideal, but war was looming. We would have done many things to prevent that. In vain, as it seems."

Inel shrugged one shoulder. "It was very hard, but I think we're stronger as a world because of it. Overall it's been a peaceful time since then."

"That is some relief, at least."

"Was it hard to agree to this?" she gestured around them. "To wait for a girl to be born, when all you knew was that it would happen _someday_?"

"Yes. Yes and no. When Princess Inima died, we searched long for her equal, but found none. Stasis was an outrageous suggestion, but as time went on it seemed more and more reasonable, and finally it was the only viable option. And so I am here." He looked up from his teacup.

"Were you very close? You and Inima?"

He sighed, looking about the room. "Not as close as bride and groom ought to have been. Out of necessity I spent most of my time with the King and the Chancellors. She was very kind, I remember that. Sweet-tempered and lovely, but very serious." He looked back at her. "It was born of her situation, I think. But she was not so easy to talk to as you are."

She reached across the little table and squeezed his hand. "I think we will do well together, Amante."

He smiled. "I think so."

"More tea?"

"Please."

- -

A/N- Thank you for reading! This was part of my NaNo novel a few years back, and thought it could stand to see the light of day, so to speak :) I'd welcome any constructive crit you can offer.


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